Hunting Treasure
by Crysania
Summary: Written for Rumbelle Christmas in July 2016, the prompts I was given were: Caribbean, decadent yacht, treasure salvage. Belle gets to go on a little adventure with Gold. Throw in Regina and Henry, and you get a treasure hunt for the best kind of treasure.


It's a dream, she thinks on the first morning she wakes up on the yacht. Not just any yacht mind you. A _luxury_ yacht. One hundred feet, more a floating house than a boat. She had mistakenly called it a boat when applying for the job. Her cheeks still redden when she remembers the dressing down she got from the owner. Gold. _Mister_ Gold, first name not disclosed. He's a prickly sort, all sharp edges and snarls. She wasn't even sure that she _wanted_ to work for him, but this…this was an adventure. And she had long craved such an adventure.

Thirty days out to sea and all she has to do is clean up after a rich bastard and the rest of his crew. She has her own small cabin. She's the only woman, he explains when he brings her on board. Well, the only woman on crew at least. There's Leroy, the chief engineer, a gruff older man who doesn't seem to smile much. She calls him _Grumpy_ in the back of her mind and tries not to smirk when he barrels by her. There's the Captain, of course. And she's not even sure what to make of him really. Half the time he seems to be in another world, half the time in their own. When she met him the night before, he bowed over her hand as if she were the lady of the manor and told her that while others often called him The Hatter ( _The Mad Hatter_ , she had heard Gold grumble under his breath, though there was no real ire to the words), she may call him Jefferson. There was the chef, an older woman named Granny. She has her own cabin, though she shares it with her daughter. They keep to themselves mostly and Gold tells her in no uncertain terms that she's not there for _socializing_. Ruby gives her a smirk and a wink and somehow that makes her feel better about things.

Her job is simple, really. Clean the cabins. Take care of the dishes ( _She's a chef dearie, not the maid_ ). And keep herself out of trouble.

And out of the way of Regina. She doesn't really know who she is or what relation she has to Gold. They don't share a cabin so she assumes they're not lovers. And there's some sort of enmity there, though it's subtle. He seems to have a certain fondness for her son, a cheeky little kid named Henry whose hair is never quite neat and who calls the whole thing "Operation Treasure Hunt" as if they're all on a pirate ship. He carries a plastic sword with him at all times, though Regina has apparently banned his wearing an eye patch.

She sees him sneaking it on when she's not looking though and sometimes he gives her a little wink as he slinks about the ship and calls himself first mate and tells her his mother said he can't touch _anything_ on the ship without her permission ( _I'm the pirate who can't touch anything_ , he grumbles as he passes her by one day).

She works hard on the ship, even though she has a sense Gold doesn't even notice it. She supposes he's busy doing the things rich people do, but once in awhile she watches him stop, cane gripped in one hand as he stares out to sea. And she can't help but wonder why they're _really_ there. There's a reason. She's sure of it. This isn't a pleasure cruise. She's seen the books and maps and she's watched Gold intently standing at the railing watching their progress, changing course. He's clearly been driving the Captain a little batty (or battier than usual as it were).

And so when she comes upon him in the common area and finds him studying a map she's not entirely surprised, really.

"What are we doing?" Belle asks, the words slipping out before she has a chance to take them back. They've been at sea for over a month, changed direction six times (so far as she can tell) and Gold seems to be getting more and more tense.

Gold freezes, the hand on his cane clenching and unclenching a few times before he finally looks up at her. "I don't recall asking for a conversation, Miss French." He turns back to the map.

Belle lets out a huff of annoyance. "One doesn't ask for conversation," she points out.

"Don't they?" The words are sharp.

"No," she snaps back.

He doesn't move for a moment and she finds herself biting her lip. It's not like he can _fire_ her, really. What would he do? Leave her on an island out in the Caribbean with nothing more than the clothes on her back? Toss her overboard? He's rude, sharp, a bit mean, but she doesn't think he's a murderer.

 _She hopes_.

He rises before she can follow that train of thought any further, tipping his cup over and spilling the remainder of his tea across one of the tables. "Clean that," he throws over his shoulder as he leaves the room. She watches him go, wondering how someone who relies on a cane can still have such grace.

She's sure, as she turns back to the cup, that he pushed it over on purpose.

* * *

She's in his room cleaning when she's drawn up short by the books left out. At first glance they seem to have little relation to each other. Geography books on the Caribbean, a history of shipwrecks in the Atlantic Ocean, a book on navigating difficult waters and weathering hurricanes, and inexplicably a novel about pirates seeking the famed Fountain of Youth.

She shakes her head over that one as she sets it back down on his desk. "He's right," she murmurs. _Henry_ , that is. They're seeking treasure. _Gold_ is seeking treasure. She wonders if that's what Regina is there for too. The woman says little to her, just sweeps past her with a disdainful raising of one eyebrow whenever they happen to cross paths.

"Who's right?" Gold, of course. He _would_ find her thumbing through his books and daydreaming. The book falls to the desk with a loud thud, too loud. She winces at the noise. "Miss French?"

She finally manages to the get boy's name out and watches as Gold's face softens for just a moment. It's a surprising look on him, the sharp features transforming. There are lines at the corner of his eyes that say that at _one point_ , he laughed. The lines at the corner of his mouth speak volumes though. Perhaps there isn't much to laugh about for him anymore. They deepen as his mouth tightens into that familiar sneer.

"Henry," he repeats and she realizes that he cares for the boy. For some unknown reason, he does really care for him.

"Yes." She finally meets his eyes as her hand brushes lightly across the book. "We're hunting treasure."

He's still for a moment and she fears he's going to toss her out on her ear again. Instead he takes a deep breath. Then another. "Not…exactly," he mutters.

"Is Gold even your real name?" Belle suddenly asks, the words slipping out without her even really being aware of it. "Or is that some sort of code name? Gold…treasure?"

"I'm not…"

"Oh God this isn't illegal is it?" She feels somewhat horrified. Rich bastard, yacht, hunting treasure in the Caribbean.

"Will you…"

"You're not some sort of pirate are you?" It sounds ridiculous, even to her own ears and she's surprised to hear Gold snort in amusement.

" _Miss French_." He sounds exasperated and yet amused at the same time. It's almost a relief, but her thoughts are racing and won't stop. "I am not a pirate."

She finally manages to meet his eyes and realizes he's smiling. Not that feral smile she's seen out of him when he's one upped a member of his crew. A real smile, eyes crinkled at the corners, mouth turned up on one side. She's surprised to feel it hit her somewhere inside. He's handsome when he smiles. It's unexpected, though she finds it strangely not unwelcome.

He's not been kind to her.

He's not really kind to _anyone_ , though she's sure she's seen him reach out and ruffle Henry's hair once or twice. She often wonders what the boy _is_ to him. Who Regina is. Why they're there. Why he sometimes seems to tiptoe around them. Oh, he's not friendly to them. She's not sure he's _capable_ of being truly friendly. But he tempers his anger when they're near.

"Well," she finally manages to get out. "That's good at least."

"And my real name _is_ Gold." There's that small smile again.

"It's ironic, isn't it?"

"It is," he confirms.

"So you _are_ looking for treasure." The words come out more breathy than she expected.

He's silent for a moment and his face has turned grim. "Of sorts."

"The Fountain of Youth?" She picks up the book.

He just stares at her and she sets it back down, suddenly feeling awkward. "I…" She shakes her head. "I'll just be going now. The um…place is clean." She's halfway out the door when he speaks again.

"Wait…" She's surprised at the soft tone to his voice and turns back to look at him. "I'm not really after the Fountain of Youth."

"No?"

He shakes his head. "I'm after something far more valuable."

"I…see." He doesn't say anything else and so she ducks her head and leaves.

* * *

She can't get it out of her head. _Something far more valuable._ Treasure chest? Pirate gold? What is more valuable than eternal youth? Not that she really believes such a thing exists and if he had been searching for _that_ she would have just chalked it up to some sort of insanity and find her way off the boat as soon as possible.

But he says that's not what they're after.

And if she had access to a library or the internet, she'd be researching it already. As is, she's stolen a look at the books several times, glanced at the maps where he'd circled different islands, looked at the maps with the tacks in it that indicate where they are and where they've been.

They're headed south. And a bit east. He's circled an island in red and she finds that fascinating. It's unlabeled. Just a speck out in the middle of the sea amidst other specs and she can't figure out what's so special about it.

It's some three weeks later when she stumbles on _something_.

It's not the right island.

The signs are all there. All his jotted down directions show what he's looking for in that area. It has the right mix of forest and beach. But there's something off and as she studies the topography map that he had laid out that day, she realizes what it is. The island he wants should be bisected by a creek. The notes all point to water, _fresh_ water, flowing down from the one hill, what was left over from a volcano that had been worn down to nothing more than a large lump of rock and vegetation. But it's not there on the island he's indicated on the map.

"You're wrong," she says when he steps into his cabin. His _own_ cabin. He's come to expect her really. He stopped chasing her off a week ago, when he found her intently studying the map he had laid out. It's almost like he _wanted_ her to study it, figure something out.

"I'm never wrong," he says but the words lack their usual bite. He sounds almost…proud. Excited.

Her chin tilts up and she slides the topography map toward him. "Well, I don't know about all those _other_ times, but this time you're most definitely wrong."

He watches her for a moment and she's almost sure he's going demand she leave immediately. He has before. He probably will again. He seems especially prickly these last days. As the ship gets closer to the island he pinpointed, he's more on edge. Tense. Jumpy. Quick to anger. She's waiting for it now.

But instead his shoulders slump and for a moment he looks so very human. It's funny how he's seemed somehow _more_ than that all along. Maybe less even. As if he's skirting on the edge of humanity, somehow larger than life and small and inconsequential at the same time. She doesn't know what he is, this Mr. Gold, first name unknown.

"Show me," he says at last.

She's in her element now and the smile that breaks out on her face only makes his scowl deepen. But he knows she's right. _She_ knows that he knows it. As she lays out the maps and the books, he leans in close to her. She can feel the heat from where his arm is close to hers, can see the gold flecks in his brown eyes and for a moment, when their eyes meet, there's _something_ there.

A break in the coldness.

A little peek into who he is.

The shutters come down quickly, but there is something lurking there just beneath the surface.

She turns to showing him what she's discovered and finds herself smiling as they bend over the maps together.

* * *

She shouldn't have been surprised when Gold shows up at her door five days later to tell her to pack lightly, that she's coming with them. They boat has been stopped off shore of a small island and Belle is certain this is the one she pinpointed on the map.

She still doesn't know what it is they're after.

She asks of course and he gives her the same answer he always gives her. _It's none of your business, Miss French_. And yet she's being dragged along with him on this little hunt.

Well, not dragged exactly.

That implies she doesn't want to go.

And Belle French _wants_ to go. She wants to go so badly she can taste it. She packs lightly. A change of clothes, a toothbrush. Is there even any point to deodorant? It's going to be hot, humid. She tosses it aside, adds several hair ties. She only has one pair of hiking boots and she hopes that will be enough.

They can't be gone that long, can they?

He fetches her soon after she's done packing, Regina and Henry at his heels. "Why is _she_ going?" Regina says and there's an imperious tilt to her chin.

She waits for Gold to offer some explanation. Even she's not sure why she's going exactly. His hand reaches up and touches the map for a moment and then he's turning away. "Come. We need to disembark."

Regina makes a noise in the back of her throat and Henry lets out a little whoop. He's smiling, his brown eyes bright. There's something… _familiar_ …about the boy. She can't quite place her finger on it. Something in the eyes, the set of the chin.

She has little time to think about it though. Gold is quickly ushering all of them into a large rowboat. Two of the crew help them in and take up the oars. Gold doesn't row. She's not surprised at this, really. And it feels perhaps a bit mean to think on it. He's small, wiry. He doesn't seem the type to be all that interested in exercise. He does have a lithe grace and she wonders if, in another life, he was a dancer. Before…whatever happened to him happened. Despite the cane, he still moves far more gracefully than she does.

Regina, of course, wouldn't touch the oars. Belle is honestly surprised she's accompanying them. Her outfit is obviously expensive and obviously new. Standing next to her, waiting to get into the rowboat, Belle feels frumpy. There are creases in her shorts, worn in from years of use. Her hiking boots have seen better days, but they're comfortable. Her hair is tied back in a messy bun, her face free of makeup. They're going out into the humid Caribbean. Regina looks like she's dressed for a _Hiking in the Caribbean_ photo shoot. Makeup perfectly applied, outfit perfectly pressed, not a hair out of place.

Gold doesn't look much better and it's obvious neither of them has done much hiking.

Henry tells her he's a Boy Scout. He'll keep them all in line. And Belle is positive he really means it. He at least looks prepared. Canteen attached to his belt, backpack at the ready. There's a skip in his step as he heads to the rowboat.

They're left on the shore not more than a half hour later. The crew assures Gold they will be looking for their flare and if they're not back in five days time they'll send a search party for them. This is _real_ , Belle realizes. They're really out there on some tiny island, likely uninhabited. Gold hasn't said as much but when they pile out of the boat onto the beach there's no signs of life. No footprints, nothing disturbed.

"Where are we going?" Belle asks as she comes up alongside Gold. He's standing facing away from the water, compass in hand, looking between it and the map he clutches tightly in the hand holding his cane.

He doesn't seem to notice her and she's about to repeat her question when he looks up and points. "That way."

And then he's moving off. She glances over at Regina and the other woman shrugs and turns to follow, Henry close at her heals. Belle brings up the rear with a sigh. She's here at least.

She only wished she knew _why_.

* * *

They've been following a trail through the forest for a little over two hours. Gold believes it's a trail left by deer but Belle is concerned. There's something man-made about it, though she doesn't mention her fears to the others. It's some time into that third hour when she spots it and it makes her blood run cold.

"Wait!" she shouts and immediately Henry, who has been chattering away, finally stops talking. Regina whirls around on her. "If you're hurt Miss French, you can go back to the beach." There's an annoyance there that is not entirely unexpected but seems rather unwarranted.

"I'm…"

"What is the matter?" Gold says and pushes past Regina to come stand at her side. He looks…concerned. And just a bit annoyed. Somehow she's sure the annoyance is not at _her_ and that warms her a little. She reaches out and puts a hand on his arm, feeling the smooth skin, the wiry muscle. When his arm jerks beneath hers, she lets go abruptly.

She points a few feet off the trail. There, almost hidden beneath the brush, is the clear outline of a shoe. She knows it's not one of theirs. It's too far off the trail and no one had veered away since they started up the path. She can see the clear indents from the tread in the mud. It's not just _a_ shoe. It's not something a native to an island such as this would wear. It's a modern hiking boot. She's sure of it.

Gold squats down to stare at it for a second. "It's not one of ours?" He sounds…well, she's not sure what exactly. A little excited. A little…scared? There's a tension to him as he continues to study the footprint. He almost vibrates with it.

"No." She's sure of that much. "I've been following all of you, remember. I would have noticed if anyone went that far off the path."

He nods and leverages himself back to his feet. She waits for an explanation, for something, but he simply turns and starts to walk back up the path.

"You're not surprised," she calls after him.

He turns back to her and his eyes meet hers for a moment. "No," he says after a time. She lets him go when he walks off this time. There was _something_ there. She's not even sure what. Grim set to the mouth, eyes shuttered. He looks weary as he continues to hike up the trail, as if the weight of the world has just settled on his shoulders.

Regina reaches out a hand and grasps her arm lightly. "Don't ask him about it," she says and then follows behind Gold. It sounds like a threat, but Belle's almost sure it's not. There was a kindness behind the word, a softening of the other woman's eyes.

With a final glance at the footprint they're leaving behind, she shoulders her pack and follows behind the rest.

* * *

Belle is exhausted by the time they stumble into a clearing large enough to put up their tents. They've been walking all day and while she's felt the elevation level off, they're still lost in a forest, still following the same trail. It parallels the creek that flows through the center of the island. Sometimes she can hear the rush of the water and once or twice they've gotten close enough to be able to stop to fill their canteens while still keeping track of the path they've been following.

She hasn't seen any more footsteps and she's not sure what that means. Gold, she's noticed, has kept a closer eye on their surroundings since finding the first one, as if he hopes to see more. He _wants_ there to be people here, she suddenly realizes. He was hoping for this.

 _Just what_ were _they there for?_

They eat a quiet meal that night. Nothing they have to heat up. A bit of tuna, a roll. There are granola bars for breakfast. They're hiding, she realizes, when he refuses to start a fire. Hiding from the people on the island, people with western shoes, whose trail they are likely following. She realizes it as they sit there silently. This was what he _wanted_. There was something in the way he had studied the footprint, an extra bit of _something_ there.

When they're done and their garbage is gathered up and put in bags to carry with the rest of their packs, it's time to turn in. The sun is still up, setting off in the distance, but they've had a hard day. A long one. Grueling. Belle can't remember ever feeling quite so exhausted before. Her legs ache, her back aches. She's ready to turn in, even if it's just laying on top of a sleeping bag on the hard ground. She's pretty sure she's so exhausted that she can sleep anywhere.

She hasn't thought much about the sleeping arrangements and so turns to follow Regina when they're heading to bed. The other woman stops and stares at her. "What exactly are you doing, Miss French?"

"I…" It seems obvious. Two women, two men, two tents. But Regina gives her a _look_. "I'll be sharing a tent with my _son_ ," and then she disappears into the tent. Henry follows behind, but not before giving her a somewhat sheepish look.

"But I thought I was going to share with Grandpa Gold," she can hear him say from inside the tent, followed by a shushing noise from Regina and then all is silence.

Belle turns back to Gold. "Well…" It's awkward.

"You can share my tent," he says and there's a bit of color to his cheeks.

"Are you sure?" She wonders if she should just sleep out under the stars. She's sure it would be amazing.

"Come on." He opens the tent flap and she crawls in. It's a tight space. She manages to unroll her sleeping bag and flop down on it. They haven't brought pillows. There's no room for such a thing and so she shoves her pack underneath the end of the sleeping bag and lays her head on it. It's lumpy, but it will have to do. It's only for a few days at least.

Gold is already curled up, turned away from her. He's still. Too still. "Gold?" The word is quiet but seems almost unnaturally loud in the tent.

She can see his body tense, but he doesn't respond. He's awake. She's sure of that much. But it's clear he has nothing further to say.

She sighs. "Goodnight then." And he relaxes just slightly. She turns the flashlight out and rolls to face the opposite direction. It's not going to be an easy night, that much is for sure.

* * *

It's still dark when she wakes up, her eyes flying open. She doesn't know what's awakened her. Everything is quiet and still. She can hear Gold's breathing somewhere behind her, even and deep. She wonders what he looks like when he's asleep, if the lines around his mouth and the furrow between his brows disappear. Does he look more at peace when the weight of the world is not sitting on his shoulders?

She knows that it does. There's something deep inside him, an edge of sadness, a bit of darkness.

With a small sigh, she pulls herself to her knees and crawls to the door of the tent. It's stuffy inside it and the darkness feels oppressive. She needs to escape, for just a moment, get her bearings, see the sky above her.

He finds her sitting outside the tent not long after, head tilted to toward the sky, taking it all in.

"You can see the Milky Way out here," she says when he crawls out. He says nothing, just stands over her, but she can see him looking up at the sky. "Come." She pats the ground at her side. "Sit with me for awhile."

He hesitates for only a moment before using his cane to leverage himself to the ground. Once settled, he leans back a bit and a quick glance his way tells her he's watching the same sky she is. It's not a sky she's seen in a long time, not since she was a small child in Australia, sitting on the back of a truck in the middle of nowhere, her mother pointing out the stars and constellations while her father drank beer and fell asleep leaning over the steering wheel. It's a fond memory but she finds she likes this one just as well.

"Gold?" she says at last.

He's quiet for a moment longer. Then…"Yes?"

"Why are we really out here?"

She hears him suck in a deep breath. She's sure he knew the question was coming. She can't believe it's just about some buried treasure.

"I can't say," he murmurs.

"Why?" she shoots back. He doesn't answer. Of course he doesn't. How could he retain his air of mystery if he actually _told_ her a damned thing.

"I think it's more than just some treasure." She glances over to see what his reaction is. She's not surprised to see his jaw clench at her words. "I'm right, aren't I?"

"It's…"

"None of my business, I know." She holds up a hand. "Yet I'm _here_. And I'm bound to find out anyway." He doesn't respond to that. Of course he doesn't. "Why bring me here if you aren't going to even let me _try_ to help?"

When he stays silent yet _again_ , she stands with a small huff. She only gets a few feet before he speaks.

"Belle, wait…"

She stops and turns back to him. It's the first time he's called her by her given name. She wasn't even sure he _knew_ what her name was. It was always _Miss French_ this or _Miss French_ that. Which, she supposes, was a step up from when he simply called her _the maid_ during the first week of her service on his yacht.

She waits for him, watches. She won't speak first. "Please sit back down." The words are gentle and unexpected. After a moment she does as he asks, turning her face back up to the sky. It's easier to watch the stars. They don't move. They don't change. They're easy to understand. Well, as far as knowing there are other stars, other planets, other galaxies. She won't pretend to be an astronomer, though the night sky has always fascinated her.

"There is…." He takes a deep breath there and she wishes she could see him clearly. It's dark out there in the middle of nowhere. The stars lend some light, but not enough. "There may be someone here."

"The mysterious footprint."

"Yes." Another deep breath. "I need to find this person." His voice sounds almost hoarse to her ears, as if he's keeping something back.

"Why?"

"I can't…"

"Say. I know." She shakes her head. "I don't understand." He doesn't respond. "Who is Regina?" She blurts the words out. She's not even sure why it matters.

"A friend."

"A friend?" She can't help the way her voic slightly rises. "You seem to barely tolerate her."

"Frenemies, then. Why does it matter?" There's ire behind the words.

She waves a hand in the air. "It doesn't."

"Then…"

"I was curious." She shrugs. "And…"

"My grandson," he answers her unspoken question with.

"I did not expect that," she says with a slight huff of laughter. Though now that she thinks about it, she is not wholly surprised. She knew the boy reminded her of _someone_. Now she knows where she's seen the dark eyes and that stubborn chin. Gold. He hardly seems old enough to be a grandfather.

"Now you're calculating my age."

"How did you…"

"You were, weren't you?" She's surprised to hear laughter behind the words.

"I was," she admits, sheepish.

"I was young when my son was born. He was even younger when Henry was." It's an easy explanation. Perhaps too easy. Regina is mixed up in there somewhere. She's heard Henry call her _Mom_ before, but she's certain the woman is not Gold's daughter. Daughter-in-law perhaps? He calls her friend, though and so she's a mystery.

Belle loves mysteries.

Regina is one mystery, a little niggling thing in the back of her mind. A curiosity.

Gold is another mystery, one she really does want to figure out. One that has her more than curious, though she can't quite figure out where that curiosity is coming from. _You're attracted to him_. She pushes that thought aside. It's not as if the man would find _her_ interesting. He's older, sophisticated, _rich_. He owns a yacht and can hire a crew and traipses about the Caribbean without a care in the world.

Well, perhaps the latter isn't quite true. There's _something_ that weighs him down. And she suspects it has to do with why they're there, that undefined _reason_ he won't tell her who they're after and what's going on.

"And so…"

"I think we should go to bed," he interrupts with. He's done talking. She still has questions. But she lets them go.

He pulls himself back to his feet and leans heavily on his cane. She's surprised to see him hold his hand out. When she hesitates, he leans just a little closer. And so she puts her hand in his. It's warm, firm. He has large hands, long fingers. They close around hers as he draws her to her feet and for a moment she sways, just a little, before managing to steady herself.

She can't say there's a _spark_. Not like she reads of in romance novels. But there's something warm that curls around in her belly and won't let go. It feels good. Unexpected, but good, and when she crawls into the tent after him, laying on top of her sleeping bag and listening to him adjust his position until he finds something comfortable, the world feels like a pretty decent place.

"Gold?" Her voice is tiny in the quiet of the tent.

"I won't tell you," he mutters and she's relieved to hear a bit of humor behind the words.

"Goodnight," she says, allowing her own amusement to show.

There's silence for at least a few minutes and she's sure he's fallen asleep. But then finally he speaks her name. Quietly, almost tentatively.

"Yes?" she responds with.

"Alistair," is all he says.

It takes her a moment to realize what he means and then she smiles. "Thank you," she whispers. He doesn't respond and not longer after she hears the deep, even sound of his breathing again. She's asleep not long after.

* * *

When she wakes up that morning she's not quite sure where she is. She's pressed up against something firm and yet soft at the same time, as if the wall was a comfortable cushion. She stretches and her hand collides with something that makes a small _oof_.

"Wh…" she starts to say and opens her eyes.

And meets Gold's.

Who she's clinging to. For a moment they both freeze, blue eyes staring into brown, one of her arms thrown over his waist, the other pressed up against his chest.

And then she's scrabbling backward at the same time he pushes away from her and _words_ come out in a rush.

He's clinging to his sleeping bag, which he has somehow drawn across his bare chest and lower half. She has her hands wrapped around her stomach. "Oh my God," she mutters. "I'm so sorry."

" _You're_ sorry?" he says on a gasp.

"I didn't mean to."

"I didn't either."

She rubs a hand across her eyes, pushes her hair out of her face.

"I was alseep," they both say at the same time.

And then Belle laughs. She can't help it. It's so ridiculously crazy. She's never been one to curl up with someone else to sleep and yet there she was, pulled up tight against him on a hot and sticky summer night. "This is ridiculous," she finally manages to get out through the laughs.

Gold… _Alistair_ …just stares at her, mouth slightly agape, eyes just a little bit too wide. He grips his sleeping bag like it's the last thing to protect himself from her insanity. It just makes her laugh even harder.

"It is," he finally admits and there's a small quirking to his lips. "This never happened?"

"Right," she says and tries to choke back any remaining laughter. "I'll just let you get dressed then?" At his nod, she stumbles outside the tent to wait for him. She'll get ready when he's done.

She wishes she even knew what that was about. There was a warmth in his voice the night before, a feeling that spread through her at the touch of his hand. She couldn't say she _understood_ him. But she felt like there was some sort of connection there. Apparently her body (her long neglected body…just how long _had_ it been since she had last dated someone anyway?) decided to pursue the connection without her even being aware of it.

 _Thank God nothing else happened_.

She wasn't one to feel any sort of attraction to someone she didn't know. But _dammit_ , she was getting to know the bastard (former bastard, really…she had a hard time thinking of him that way anymore). And with that knowledge apparently came attraction .She'd just have to keep _that_ thing under control. It's not like he would ever…

 _He was clinging to_ you _too_ , comes the unbidden thought. She pushes that one to the side. This is definitely not the time for it. Regina emerges from her tent and gives Belle a _look_. She looks perfect, of course, though Belle can tell by the way she limps slightly that her brand new boots were giving her blisters.

Regina gives her a smug grin. "Have fun last night, dear?"

"More than you, I'm sure," she shoots back. And then walks off into the woods to find a place to take care of some necessities. She makes sure she saunters a bit. _Her_ feet don't hurt. Her well worn hiking boots are like an old friend. Regina may have all the money in the world, and it's quite clear she's at least as wealthy as Gold, but she's ill-equipped to deal with this sort of grueling hike.

She can see Regina storm over to Gold's tent and she wonders what the conversation _there_ will entail. When she returns, Gold looks angry. Regina looks annoyed. And Henry loudly proclaims breakfast ready. All in all, it's a better start to the day than she could have imagined.

* * *

It's just too bad the rest of the day wasn't as good as breakfast. In fact, it starts going south, as it were (they're actually traveling north but who is Belle to argue with clichéd phrases?), when Regina twists her ankle. It's not a terrible twist, she can walk. But she spends most of the morning complaining.

Gold offers her his cane.

She sneers.

They go on.

As they move further up, Gold gestures for Belle to come up ahead with him. Regina is falling behind and Henry pulls back to tend to her. As Belle walks past Regina, the other woman stops her with a hand on her arm. "Just who _are_ you, Miss French?"

Belle shrugs. "I'm no one." She moves past her and catches up to Gold. It's not that she's _no one_ exactly. She's just no one to Regina. Just another face, another person to walk over.

She really doesn't know Regina.

She doesn't know why she's being so unkind to the other woman. Something about her sets her on edge.

When she glances back at the woman and sees the grimace and a look that she's pretty sure is _fear_ cross her face, she softens a bit. Maybe she's not so bad. Maybe there's a reason she is so standoffish with Belle and the others. She wonders what _her_ story is too.

More mysteries.

Ever more.

But she doesn't have time for it now. Gold continues to move steadily along the path. There's a set to his shoulders, to his eyes. "We're getting close, aren't we?" Belle finds herself blurting out.

"Perhaps," he murmurs. She hopes to see something, a smile, a small quirk of the lips. But he looks grim. Far more so than he has before. Almost as if he's walking to the gallows and not to whatever it is he's truly seeking there on the island.

"Perhaps…" She lets the word hang in the air.

He doesn't respond, just keeps staring ahead, walking. They're not moving fast, but they move steadily along the trail. She's sure it's man-mad now. What seemed like an animal trail has widened the further up the hill they get and it's smoothed out. As if many feet have walked the trail. She's almost sure she sees bits of footprints, maybe even signs something has been dragged along the path.

And then the trees suddenly end and they're standing at the edge of a cliff, a drop of some one hundred feet. Spanning the distance between where they are and the other edge of the cliff is a bridge. Well, two bridges really. Clearly man made. One looks older, made of ropes of vine and suspended across the ravine to their left. It doesn't quite look sturdy but it's clearly been well-used.

The one on the right looks newer. Made of wooden planks, it looks a little rickety, but seems safe. Mostly at least. Regina makes a beeline for the wooden one, limping along with great determination.

"Wait…" Gold starts to say.

"No." She turns back toward him. "We've been waiting long enough." She has Henry's wrist in her hand and she heads to the wooden bridge. A shiver runs down Belle's spine. There's just something _off_ here. She doesn't know what, but she holds her breath when Regina and Henry step out onto the bridge.

How old is it?

Will it hold?

"Come on," Gold says and she turns away from watching Regina's progress to see him making his way to the other bridge.

"Is this really wise?" she asks. Her stomach feels tight, her heart frozen.

"Probably not." He steps out onto the bridge and it sways underneath him. This can't be easy for him, she realizes, as he holds himself tightly to the ropes. He's strapped his cane to his backpack. It's useless on this crossing and so he clings to the ropes of the suspension bridge and struggles his way across.

When he loses his balance and Belle watches him start to tip backward, she rushes forward. The bridge sways beneath her feet and she grips it hard.

 _I will not look down._

 _I will not look down._

 _I will not look down_.

It's a mantra that runs through her head as she manages to catch up to Gold and places one hand against his back to steady him. "Don't look down," she says and feels him stiffen. Grimacing, she pushes him a little, gets him moving.

"Not far," he mutters as they make their slow careful way over.

She glances to the right, watches Regina's progress on the other bridge. Henry is close up next to her, almost clinging to her.

And then she hears it.

She's not even sure what it is at first.

It's just a strange groaning noise. Regina's mouth opens in an "o" of surprise and Henry stumbles. She watches as they both grip the wooden railing of the bridge they're on.

There's a crack, the sound of a whip or the smack of a hand across a face, and then the bridge has broken free in the middle. Impossibly, for it has to be impossible, it doesn't swing down but out to the left, as if there are hinges at the end that enable it to come apart and move freely. "Gold!" she shouts but he's frozen in place, watching, waiting.

It's coming directly at them.

And it feels like a dream.

It must be a dream, she thinks as she watches its movement. It slows down. Or her mind slows down. For a moment she wonders if it's even moving. But she can see Henry scream something. She feels Gold push her back, trying to get them out of the path of the bridge that continues to move toward them. But they can't. There's no way.

It's moving too fast.

Or they're moving too slow.

She's not even sure anymore.

She just knows it's coming at them and they're watching in horror, clinging to the vines that make up the suspension bridge and praying to any God that might listen to let them all live through this.

 _Your life flashes before your eyes._

It's not true, though. In those final moments before the wooden bridge collides with their suspension bridge, all she can see is the bridge, Henry's wide eyes, Regina's hands white on the rail of her bridge. All she can feel is Gold pressed up against her as they hold tight.

And then the collision happens. And the world explodes in light and sound and the horror of their screams. She feels the suspension bridge rip, the old vines giving way before the heaviness of the wood. Her feet drop out from under her and she lets go of Gold to cling to the rope as the bridge is sliced in two.

They're falling.

She's sure it's the end.

But her hands don't let go of the bridge and when she sees Henry start to fly past her, she reaches out an arm and wraps it around the boy's waist. A moment later he's clinging on the vines of the suspension bridge next to her.

They hit the wall of the ravine with a loud thud and she grips it even harder.

Not gripping it means falling

Not gripping it means death.

She's not ready to die and so with a strength she didn't even know she possessed, she clings to the vines . Her hands hurt. Her whole body hurts. She glances down and sees Gold clinging to the vine below her. His head is even with her knee. She can feel his breath ghost across her skin, coming in great gasps.

"Regina?" she shouts.

"Up here!" comes her voice. Weak. Strained. "I don't know how long I can hold on."

Belle isn't sure what to say. She's not sure how long _she_ can hold on.

 _This is it_.

"Can you pull yourself up?" Gold shouts. She knows he's talking to Regina. She's at the top of their rag-tag little group and could be the first to reach safety.

Belle looks up, watches as Regina tries, fails, slides down half a foot. "No," she says miserably.

It's the end.

She knows it.

What else could it be? One by one they are going to fall, listening as each person screams their way to their death. Until there is only one left, clinging to the vine, hoping and praying for a rescue that that has no hope of arriving.

 _There were footprints_.

She isn't sure how long they cling there, breathing heavily, before Henry decides he's going to scale the thing. He's going to get up there. He's going to live. He's going to get _help_.

And he does it too, the little monkey. Belle watches as he raises himself up, hand over hand. He shouts down as he gets near the top. "Just like gym class!"

She's never been so thankful for rope climbing in gym class. She was abysmal at it, couldn't even get past that first knot on the rope. But Henry is at the top and he's their salvation. He has to be. A moment later he disappears and then she hears shouting. "Dad?"

"Henry?"

The new voice sounds incredulous and she glances down at Gold who seems to have stopped breathing.

Then there's a face peering down at them. Belle can't see much from where she is. Brown hair that sticks out from his head, uneven facial hair, as if he's tried to shave without the use of a mirror or proper utensils, dark eyes.

"Bae," she hears Gold say.

"Papa?" There's surprise there. Pride and…something else. Shock? Excitement? "Papa is that really you?"

"Bae!" Gold shouts again and she sees him try to pull himself up, the cords of his muscles pulling taut as he shifts.

"Papa, wait. We'll get you up here. Just…hold tight."

* * *

The journey to the top was a harrowing one. Belle doesn't really even want to remember it. Gold's son managed to toss down some makeshift rope. Another vine, she supposes, and wonders if the bridge was created by him.

Regina is pulled up first, followed by Belle, who gets her first real look at Gold's _son_. There's little resemblance there, except the eyes. The eyes are clearly Gold's. And Henry's, now that she thinks about it. Gold's son, but Henry's _father_.

When Gold is pulled up, Bae using the suspension bridge itself to pull the older man to the top, he crawls to his feet and just stares. His eyes look wet with tears, but none fall. He looks hesitant, maybe scared. And suddenly Belle _knows_.

"This is the treasure, isn't it?" she blurts out.

Gold glances her way.

His son just gapes at him. "You told her I was a treasure?"

"You are, Bae." The words are quiet. "You always were."

"But you…"

"I know," Gold says. "But I've had a lot of time to think." And then he pauses, puts his hand to his heart. "I thought you were dead."

"Oh, Papa," his son whispers. There's a bit of a melting of the anger she realizes was hiding behind his eyes.

"Son, _I thought you were dead_." The last is an emphatic whisper and Belle feels a little like she's intruding on a private moment.

"Everyone did," his son finally answers, raking a hand through his head. "Emma's here too," he finally says. "Our ship…it wrecked just off shore of this island. It was all we could do to get here safely. But…"

"You had no way off," Gold confirms.

"No way off. We waited," he says. "We waited for so long."

Gold takes a step closer to him. "We searched. Forever, it seems. Even after the Coast Guard gave up, we searched. I never gave up." And then Gold seems to not be able to help himself. He steps forward and clasps his son in a hug, more emotion pouring through his body in that moment in time than she's ever seen out of him.

When they part, his son looks a little uncomfortable, awkward in the way his arms fall slowly to his side. "How did you find us?" he finally asks.

And suddenly all eyes are on _Belle_. She waves. "Hi." She's not sure what else to say.

Gold reaches out a hand and puts it on her shoulder, draws her closer. "Bae, this is Belle French. She's…I…" Belle finds herself smiling. She's not even sure what she _is_ to him anymore. "Well…She's the person who helped find this island. Belle, this is Balfour. My son." The last is said with so much pride that she wants to hug him.

"How long?" she asks instead.

"Six years," Gold responds with.

"Has it been that long?" Balfour says.

"It has." Gold finally seems to notice Regina standing off to the side. The other woman looks awkward, dark hair hanging lank about her face. "This is Regina," he finally says and she watches as Regina's eyes meet his. She nods and Gold gives her a grim look. "Henry…he went into foster care. I was in no place to raise a young child. They…took him from me."

There was more to that story. She is sure of that much. And she realizes she _wants_ to know the story. She wants to know _his_ story. His and Balfour's and Henry's and even Regina's.

"Regina took him in. She officially adopted him two years after you disappeared."

She watches as the implications of that sink in and Balfour turns to look at Regina. "We'll have to a lot to talk about," she says into the awkward silence.

"I guess so," Balfour responds with, running his fingers through his hair. She realizes that he gets that gesture from his father.

 _His father_.

"Yeah, well," Balfour finally says. "Emma's back at our home, so maybe we should go get her?"

"Right," Gold says.

* * *

They've been back at their home, really just a shelter made from vines someone weaved together and covered with mud and leaves, for the better part of an afternoon. Belle meets Emma, who is Henry's mother and Balfour's…something. She supposes girlfriend. Wife, really, though they're not actually married. She's a no-nonsense woman but even she seems to have been affected by finding her son again. She tells them how they got lost at sea, caught in the tail end of a hurricane, wrecked on the coast of this tiny island. They survived by eating what fruits they could and learning to fish. Thankfully, the creek that crosses the island is a fresh water one. They've learned how to catch fish with spears and they're incredibly adept at it.

That night they dine on fish and berries. It's a simple meal. There are no spices on the island. But it tastes good regardless. Not long ago, Belle was sure they were dying and so this meal, their first after their near-death experience, is _life_.

Regina and Emma speak amicably, Emma learning only a fraction of Henry's life during the years they've been apart. Henry stays happily between them and she hears him tell Balfour that he has _two_ moms now and isn't that the most amazing thing ever?

Gold comes to sit at her side. He's silent at first, reaching out a hand to lightly touch her arm and then, finally, to grasp her hand in his. "Without you, we wouldn't have found him."

"I didn't do that much." She feels the blush creep up her cheeks. She always was prone to blushing, giving away her inner thoughts in a way she wished she didn't.

He glances at her and smiles. "You reunited me with my son." Simple words but nothing simple about the sentiment. She squeezes his hand.

"Why didn't you ever think he was dead?" She doesn't mean to ask the question, but it comes out anyway.

"I just knew," he says and there's such conviction behind the words. _He just knew_. It must be amazing, she thinks, to have that kind of connection to someone. She's never fancied herself having children. At nearly thirty, it seems less likely all the time.

"That's…"

"Yes," he answers her. There's no need for her to articulate her thoughts. He seems to know what they are.

They fall silent and after a few minutes Belle leans over slightly, her head coming to rest on Gold's shoulder.

"Belle?" he says finally.

"Yes, Alistair?"

"When we get back, would you…maybe…" He stops there.

"Yes?"

He takes a deep breath. She can feel his shoulder move beneath her head. "Maybe you might consider going out to dinner with me…sometime?"

"I'd like that." She smiles and squeezes his hand. "I'd like that very much."


End file.
